


Live Unbruised

by achillese



Series: Be Healed [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Breakfast, Bullying, Childhood, Flashback, Food, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achillese/pseuds/achillese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Adam, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but for a very different and personal reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live Unbruised

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Aeryn](http://dinnaemindtheaccent.tumblr.com) because he wanted to know why Adam's breakfasts are so damn special when not even I knew. I thank him for forcing me to figure it out.

The table was set for only two, but the freshly made breakfast spread could feed probably the entire suburban block. Two giant plates, one piled high with pancakes and the other with scrambled eggs, took up one side of the rectangular table, while the other side was guarded by bacon and waffles. A giant pitcher of orange juice served as the centerpiece for the impressive display, bright and vibrant against the otherwise monochrome kitchen. The air inside the house was warm but not to the point of discomfort, and anyone who walked into the kitchen now would agree that this was the meal of champions.

But, as it was, the champion for whom it was cooked was a mere twelve years old and currently bounding down the stairs to reach the breakfast laid out for him, lest it vanish into thin air.

“No running in the house, sweetie, you’ll trip!”

“I’m _fine_ , Mom!” He sounded agitated. Here he was, a full double-digit age, and his mother was still treating him like a child. It wasn’t fair.

Still, if she treated him like an adult, then she wouldn’t feel compelled to make these amazing breakfasts the way she did. And she didn’t do it often, that’s for sure. Her job at the hospital, what with its awkward nighttime/early morning hours, sometimes kept her well past her son’s wakeful time between when he got dressed and when he left for the school bus that picked him up a block away. It was rare that she was home to make him breakfast, and when she _was_ home, it wasn’t as if she went all-out like this all the time. This in and of itself was a rare occasion, maybe once every two months or so. But every once in awhile she felt like treating her son to a five-star meal, and here it was.

The sandy-haired boy slid into a chair at the kitchen table before tucking his legs underneath him and leaning up on his knees as he reached out with one slightly pudgy hand to grab a pancake. His mother, descending the stairs, caught the motion out of the corner of her eye.

“Manners,” she said warningly.

The boy made a face but retracted his hand and picked up his fork to stab the top pancake. His mother smiled a bit and walked over to him, kissing the top of his head as she passed by and ruffling his hair. “You have that big history test today, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

“And you studied those flash cards we made last week?”

“Mhmm.” Mouth full of pancake.

“Don’t try and speak with your mouth full.”

“Mmmpf.” Fine, Mom.

His mother couldn’t help but laugh as she leaned down to kiss his forehead before settling in the chair next to him. “You’ll do great, sweetheart. I know you will.”

The boy swallowed and wiped some crumbs off his mouth before grabbing for the pitcher of orange juice. His mother smiled gently and helped him pour his glass full.

“Mom, I have a question.” Always so full of questions.

She started piling her own plate with eggs. “Of course, honey.”

He paused and his mother leaned forward a bit in anticipation of his next words, quiet and unsure and slightly higher pitched as he tried to find the right way to ask his question: “...is it...okay...if I don’t like girls?”

She tried to control the shock that was trying to make itself known on her facial features. “Wh-What do you mean?”

The boy shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not that I think girls have cooties. I just...don’t like them. I...I like boys.” He caught her eyes, his own blue orbs wide and bright. “Is that...okay? Is it wrong?”

“Has someone told you it’s wrong?”

“No...I haven’t told anyone.”

His mother sighed and set her fork down on the table before reaching over and gently grabbing her son’s small hand. “Listen to me carefully, honey. If you’re sure of yourself, if you’re sure of who you are and who you like, don’t you ever let anybody tell you it’s wrong. Because it’s not.” She never imagined having this kind of talk with him over one of her breakfasts, let alone at all, and she was so unprepared but she was trying and she hoped it was enough. “You are allowed to like and love whomever you choose. And you will always be right.”

The grin on the boy’s face started out slowly before it grew wide and he was positively beaming with relief. “Really? Y-You mean that?”

She pursed her lips in thought. “Tell you what. If you can come home from school every day, no matter how bad of a day you’ve had, no matter what happens with your classmates, and tell me you’re proud of yourself and that you accept and love yourself, I’ll make breakfasts like this more often. Deal?”

“Deal.”

She reached out and smoothed his hair away from his forehead. “I love you so much, Adam. That won’t ever change.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

\---

At fourteen, he came home with a split lip.

“Adam—”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Honey, did you go to the nurse?”

“No.”

“Adam.”

“What, Mom?”

“Who was it? What happened?”

“Same as always. And you _know_ what happened. Not allowed to be a faggot in school, apparently.”

“ _Adam Joseph Milligan_. You will _never_ use that word again, especially in reference to yourself, do you understand me?”

“Fine, fine. I get it.”

“...Well? I’m waiting.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“...”

He sighed. “I love myself. And I accept myself. And I’m proud of the fact that I prefer cock.”

Despite herself, she laughed, and he cracked a smile in spite of his lip. “What am I going to do with you?”

\---

At seventeen, he came home with a dark-haired boy.

“Mom? This is Jesse.”

“Hi, Jesse. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Milligan.”

“Oh, it’s Ms. Milligan, hon. And thank you. You’re one of Adam’s friends?”

“...Yeah, I guess you could say that...”

Adam waited until Jesse was upstairs in his room before turning to his mom, but she already seemed to know what he was going to say. She could tell by the way his shoulders tensed up that, despite her knowing this side of him, he was still wary around her. And so, she decided to beat him to the punch.

“He’s cute,” she said, wiggling an eyebrow.

Adam was so relieved that he gave her the tightest hug he’d given in a long, long time. “Mom, I really, really do love myself right now. And I love you even more.”

She squeezed him back. “I love you too honey. And I’m so glad you don’t think you’re too old for these breakfasts in the morning.”

He laughed, towering over her just the tiniest bit. “Never.”

\---

“Adam? Is everything all right? You look...distant.”

“Hm?”

Adam blinked and his eyes refocused on Michael’s green gaze, standing in front of him with one hand on his shoulder concernedly. The angel tilted his head to the side slightly, assessing the slightly dazed human.

“Are you all right?” he asked again.

“Oh.” Adam paused. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I kinda checked out. What were you saying?”

Michael was still looking at him calculatingly. “I’d just asked why breakfast is such a big deal for you.” He swept his hand out and indicated the spread Adam had set out for them on the table nearby: waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and orange juice. “You seem to put so much effort into an event so fleeting and mundane.”

Adam’s lips curled into a smile. “Yeah, well, I just...have really good memories of breakfasts like this. With my mom.” He tried to sound as cavalier as possible.

Michael nodded in understanding, pausing to study Adam’s face before wrapping his arms around him and holding Adam tight to his chest. “She sounds like quite an incredible woman. You’re lucky to have had her.”

Adam chuckled into Michael’s shoulder. “You’ve no idea.”

Michael pulled away a little bit so he could bend and capture Adam’s lips in his own, kissing him gently, knowing Adam was possibly hurting at the moment with the memories of his mother and wanting to do more to comfort him. For now, though, a kiss would have to do, along with some soothing words: “And so you must be proud to be her son.”

Adam nodded, eyes slightly glazed over as he slipped once again back into the past, into his memories where he was warm and safe and small. “Yeah, I am. I’m proud of that. And more.”


End file.
